Restoration
by Fiannalyn also Fianna
Summary: Haldir's world is not what it once was a hundred years after the War of the Ring. Unable to leave what he loves most, it will take someone else to heal his pain and return him to the elf he once was.
1. Chapter 1

Title: Restoration

Number Author: Fianna

Rating: R

Disclaimer: Tolkien owns the elves of Lothlorien and I write only for the pleasure of their company.

Cast: Haldir, Orophin, Rumil and my own characters

Timeline: Several hundred years after the War of the Ring

Note: This is one of two stories I am currently working on at the moment. Both are LOTR, both are similar in some ways, but different as well. I hope to keep them apart, but post chapters as rapidly as possible. Thank you for reading.

~RESTORATION~

Lothlórien – third age of the world.

Part 1

There was little left. Sunlight baked the soil that had long lain damp and moist beneath trees hundreds of spans high, so large that buildings had been built into them. One could only imagine the grandeur of the place, only bits and pieces spoke of the creatures that had once lived here not so long ago.

Rowen could feel the pain of the trees, so few left, of their lost companions, as well as the elves that had once nurtured them and lived within their lofty boughs. She sat crouched among the broken spars and branches, eyes closed to absorb what she could feel.

She had always been good with such things, her empathy with nature a skill she treasured deeply. Still, being so open also brought with it heartache, for she could sense the loss, the agony of so many gone. She opened her eyes slowly, squinting in the too bright light. Around her lay a forest, but dead, most of the trees down and rotting in the sunlight with smaller, more stubborn growth hiding their ancestors great size. Only a few clung to life, the grey bark smooth, yet stained with the fires that had taken most of the others, chipped and battle-scarred from ax and sword.

But what about the people, those creatures that had lived among the branches of the Mallorn? Had they retreated to those lands across the sea? Were there any left? She doubted it, looking at the devastation around her. How could they stay, seeing their home decimated in this way?

How long had they withstood their enemies only to fall to nature's wrath, and once vulnerable, to those very creatures they had fought against, hunted for, and nearly destroyed themselves.

The orcs after the war of the ring became hunted creatures. Hiding amid the shadows of night, they remained in the world, certainly far less once Sauron had been defeated, but still a threat to the peaceful peoples of the world.

A hundred years past and still they roamed the wilds and places like this, torn apart and left for dead.

Rowen nearly wept at the sight.

"There is nothing here." Sweeney gripped her arm, her brother's attempt to interrupt her thoughts.

"Nay, there is far too much. It hurts to feel it all."

Sweeney pulled her to her feet, his gray eyes concerned. "Then why stay? Why come here at all if you knew what it would be like?"

Had she known the pain here? Probably, but she had not been able to resist the urge to see, to view a stronghold of such graceful beings, only to find it like it was.

Had anyone seen sight of the elves in recent years? She could not remember anyone speaking of them. They had been forgotten, only tales in a war nearly lost to memory, as people preferred to push such horrors aside to live their normal, and now relatively peaceful lives.

There were just a few that had not forgotten those trials, and strove to remember those days. Rangers like her, like Sweeney, who wandered the wild lands still.

She brushed off her brother's hand. Ran a hand through her dark hair, hot from the sunlight overhead. Sweat trickled beneath her breasts under her tunic, coated the back of her neck. She'd be itching for days if they didn't bathe soon, yet she could not imagine getting into the murky waters of the streams crossing the dead elven city.

She waved Sweeney aside and stepped over a downed tree, bending over to brush her fingers over the wood rail still attached to the trunk. Carved intricately in detail so small she had to feel it more than see it, it spoke of the skill of the people who lived here.

Galadriel had left long ago, with Elrond, Celeborn, gone across the wide sea to their elven lands that none but they could access. A heaven of sort, in Rowen's mind. How lucky to have such a haven to return to.

She had no idea where she would go, once the gods took her life. She tried not to think about it, for despair would set in once she did, wondering if there would be anyone who would miss her once she was gone.

Sweeney would, of course, for they were close as siblings could be, constant companions for many years. But some day she was sure he'd find a woman more suited to him than a sister, and she would then be alone.

There were few men who would accept a woman like her for a companion, too strong, too opinionated, too much like a man for a man to appreciate. She rolled her eyes. She wasn't going to pretend she was something else. She was what she was. A good ranger, with good skills. She could fight as well as Sweeney, she could read tracks for days with little to show for it, and could make a hearty stew if she felt like it. What more could a man want? She shook her head, glancing over her shoulder at Sweeney, who had sat on a log, smoking his pipe.

"All right, I suppose we must leave. I don't want to make camp here."

Sweeney look up at the sky, the pipe clenched between white teeth. He was a handsome man, dark hair brushed his shoulders, nearly blue in the sunlight, slanted eyes gained from their mother only emphasized his high cheekbones. His mouth, usually curved in some amusement, curled down now as he considered the time.

"We've only a few hours until dusk. Hardly time to get anywhere near out of the wood. Might as well make the best of what we have. There's plenty to burn for the fire. We can make a passable bed right here."

Rowen shuddered at the mention of the fire. "I don't think I could, Sweeney. The trees... they have long memories. Fire took them down."

Sweeney shrugged, eyes narrowed as he squinted at her. "Your call, you're the one who feels such things. We can do without a fire, it's warm enough."

She had few other reasons to decline Sweeney's suggestion, except for the fact she felt too much. But he was right, it would take them a full day to be free of the once golden wood, to find a place to cross the Anduin that flowed nearby.

Still, she did not have to like the idea, no, not at all.

...oOo...

Rowen woke abruptly, body filled with tension and not knowing why. Moonlight filtered through thick clouds overhead, the stars appeared then disappeared behind the thin whispery covering. She lay still, aware of Sweeney's breathing near by, the other two men with them as well, still deep in slumber. Their guard, a young man they'd picked up months ago was far too quiet for being awake.

She growled softly, annoyed that he had fallen asleep again. Rollling to her side, she pushed herself up to sit, surveying the sleeping men, and then, slowly, the area around them. They had made camp in the lee of two huge downed trees, masked by their size, it had felt almost enclosed. The moonlight glinted off the grey bark, but left most of the area around them in shadows.

"Ren?"

She spoke softly, not wanting to wake the others.

When there was no answer she sighed and rose to her feet, grunting at the hitch in her back. She was getting old if she couldn't move without a groan or two. Shaking her head, she stepped over Sweeney. A hand on her ankle nearly made her scream.

"Has he fallen asleep again?" Sweeney's voice was rough with sleep, and irritation.

"I don't know. I'm checking it out."

"Be careful."

She smiled at him briefly as he rolled back over, jerking his cloak over his shoulder. Moving quietly, Rowen headed toward Ren's position, a few paces beyond the farthest tree.

When she reached it he was not there.

"Ren?"

Rowen turned slowly, worry growing in the pit of her stomach. "Ren?"

"Here," a voice sounded at her elbow, with Ren nearly hidden at the base of the tree. He yawned, jaw cracking at the effort. "What is it?"

She glared at the boy, hands on her hips.

"You were sleeping!"

Ren shook his head, holding open one eye. "I wasn't. Had one eye open."

"For the love of the gods, Ren, we could have been attacked!"

He yawned again, scratching his head. Rowen stepped back a step. Ren's cleanliness was less than godly. "By what? The forest is clear. Could see for leagues..." Ren stopped as she continued to glare.

"Fine, I'll get up. Or better yet, since you're awake, you can take over."

She couldn't speak for a moment, wanting only to throttle the man. She waved him away toward Sweeney. She'd suggest they lose him the next town. Once he had settled down again, Rowen moved further away. Better to let go of her anger, he was young, if foolish. One of these days he'd be sorry, or they would all be. She sighed, sitting on one of the trees and pulling up her feet. Arms wrapped around her knees, she stared at the once grand forest with a sadness she couldn't push away.

What had happened here? How had the forest come to such terrible straits? No one really knew, most was simply rumor for few had seen the forest, and fewer yet had been allowed inside the wood. The elves of Lorien had been known for being reclusive. Tales told of their guardians spoke of fierce silent warriors that could hide within the branches of the forest like so much a part of those trees. Few went in, fewer came out to speak of it.

Yet they had aided the world when needed. And what had they gained from Sauron's defeat? She looked at the forest around her and thought little.

Rowen jerked up her head, startled to find she had lost track of time with her thoughts. The moon had shifted, sending long shadows of near dawn over the wood. She could hear someone snoring, loud enough to cover the sound of a nearby stream.

Goosebumps prickled her skin and made her shiver.

She turned her head slowly, eyes scanning the shadows, but she could see little. There was too much cover, too many shadows from the trees, the scrubby bushes, the mounds of rotting wood for her to see very well.

It was too quiet, beyond that of the men snoring.

No night sounds at all. No crickets, no wind sighing through the trees.

Had it been that way earlier? She could not remember.

Her hand shifted to the dagger at her side, easing the blade free of the sheath on her belt. Another sat in her boot top, another at her back. Nearly frantic now with a deep sense of foreboding, she jerked her head toward the men. Had a shadow moved? Or was she being foolish, seeing things that were not there. Her eyes strained to see, head cocked to hear something that was not normal.

The hand when it covered her mouth made her scream, ineffectual as it was being muffled, the other gripping her wrist was like a vise of steel. The voice, when it whispered into her ear, sent a wave of cold surprise down her spine.

"Be still."

Rowen shivered, eyes wide as she tried to see, to look to the side at the person holding her captive in a far too easy manner, to see if anything was happening to her friends near by.

They were surrounded by shadows, hardly more than darkness upon darkness. The shadows bent down over the men, and Rowen cringed at what she though must be happening. Knives killed silently. They would not have known it was coming, her role as guard to provide warning ineffectual.

But nothing glimmered of metal, only muffled grunts as the men woke abruptly, held down by the shadows leaning over them.

A curse sounded, an oof as someone tried to break free, a faint sound of laughter from one of the shadows.

And still the hand kept her captive, her head held back against a solid backdrop she assumed was a person's chest, her blade dropped from fingers grown numb.

She should have tried to break free, but the strength in the hold on her wrist suggested she'd not have much luck. They were both stiff, arms held out in an odd parody of a dance, wind ruffling strands of hair.

They caught the moonlight, longer than hers, and pale as the light that gilded them silver.

Rowen's eyes widened further, her breath caught at the sight.

The shadows shifted near the men, rising to full height, dragging her friends to their feet. She heard Ren sob faintly, heard Gordie grunt as someone shoved him forward, his red hair bright against the shadow behind him.

Then the creature holding him shifted, the covering that had hidden him from view slipped to reveal more silver hair, and skin as pale as ivory. Eyes glowing faintly, he pushed Gordie toward her. Behind him, Ren stumbled, guided as well, if not gently, and then Sweeney, far too silent, and Dorn at the rear, all held hostage by what she could now see where cloaked warriors.

Not orcs, too tall for that, and not men with their stealth.

She held her breath, unwilling to concede just who might have them now surrounded and held captive.

They were dragged from their camp, pushed and prodded, forced down a trail she had not seen. Only that one small glimpse gave any clue to who they were, kept apart from one another by a warrior in between. Unable to see the trail well, Rowen stumbled over a branch, cursing but felt a hand on her arm holding her back from a fall to her knees.

They made little sound. No breathing, no words, nothing but shadowed faces. At least she knew they were real, and not ghosts of the creatures that had once lived here.

An hour before dawn, when the sky had finally begun to lighten, the moon still bright in the sky, they stopped. A stream trickled nearby, moving over rocks to give some sound to its presence. Trees grew taller here, if young by Mallorn standards, yet still gave some shelter. Rowen sat down, pushed to a seat by a firm hand on her shoulder. Ren collapsed, huddling over his knees, the emotions coming from him both terrified and embarrassed. Sweeney remained silent, a warning of actions to come, while Gordie and Dorn only grunted, shoved down beside her. What would come next? Had they trespassed? Did the rules of the once grand forest still exist? Should they not have come?

Rowen stood up, surprised when no one moved toward her. The shadows, whatever they were had slipped back into the trees. Only one remained, a tall darkness that turned as she took a step forward.

"Nay," a hand lifted, pale in the darkness, almost floating with the graceful movement. Palm out, he held her in place with the one word, the voice sending a bevy of goosebumps down her spine.

"We mean you no harm," Rowen hissed.

"Indeed?" the comment held laughter, an arrogance that made her bristle. They were not helpless, had fought enough battles that she felt confident had they met in other circumstances the result would have been far different. At least, this is what she told herself as she wavered on stepping toward him still.

Sweeney made the choice for her. He leaped to his feet, a blade gleaming in hand, probably hidden deep within his garments. The shadowed creature shifted imperceptibly, meeting Sweeney's attack silently, a blur of cloak, shadow and man.

Rowen held her breath as in what seemed like hours, but was in reality only seconds, Sweeney was tossed onto his back, all breath lost from impact, to have a very long, wicked dagger held to his throat.

"Please..." Rowen held out her hand, terror making her voice hoarse.

A hand reached up to draw back the shadowed hood. Long hair slipped free of the confines of the fabric to drape long down the creature's chest, gleaming like a waterfall of silver. A stubborn chin jerked toward her, silver eyes gleamed with irritation.

"No harm meant?" the dagger moved slightly and Sweeney gurgled an insult, still struggling beneath a booted foot, fingers gripping the leather tightly. "He does not seem to agree."

She could only stare, mouth open at the sight of the elf. Another grunt from Sweeney made her blink away her surprise. "He's impulsive."

"He should be more cautious. Had I been an orc, he would be dead."

Had they been orcs she would have smelled them before being caught unawares. "I did not know the elves remain as yet in Arda."

He grunted, an answer that offered no answers, but he moved back a step, lifting the dagger from Sweeney's throat. Her brother hissed, rubbing his neck, and rose carefully to his feet.

The elf remained still, waiting for Sweeney to move, but her brother, finally thinking clearly, only touched a few fingers to his brow.

"My apologies, elf. I had little idea of just who had accosted us."

"You are in Lothlórien." It was a simple statement.

Sweeny glanced around him. "We thought it a dead place."

"It is dead." The elf turned away, sheathing his dagger. He was taller than Sweeney who stood six foot. A gesture from the elf brought movement from the trees and suddenly there was light, a glow from several torches held by more elves. That they offered the light for Rowen's benefit was clear, for the glow in their eyes dimmed at the brightness.

It gave Rowen ample opportunity to view her captors, too see just what she had come to see. An elf. It had been beyond hope, yet here right before her stood males of that race, warrior and yet ghosts of what had been. They surrounded Rowen's band, faces grim, eyes so keen she felt the sharpness like a knife stabbing her back. She ignored the fear she felt from her guards, from Ren, and looked at the one she sensed to be their leader.

He stood staring out at the forest, most of the devastation hidden by the smaller trees. Stiff, shoulders back, he offered no welcome, only resistance to yet another trespass against his wood. She shivered faintly at the pain she could feel buried deep.

"We truly meant no harm."

"There is nothing here for you. Why come?"

Rowen glanced at Sweeney. His glance, wry and amused, said it was hers to explain. "I... we simply wanted to see."

A faint snort came from him but he turned around, chin rising to stare down at her from his height, grey eyes glittering in the moonlight. His hair gleamed, the rising dawn behind him reflected in the shimmering strands. "To see our destruction?"

There was anger behind the words, fury that had been held tightly in control for years. Rowen shuddered, but stepped closer. She couldn't stop her hand from lifting, touching him for the briefest moment before he shifted out of reach. "Nay, elf, to see the glory it once was."

"You have no cause to be here," he argued. "A foolish decision. Orcs could have killed you easily, for all your guardians." He shook his head, a glance of disdain at Ren, proving to Rowen he had indeed fallen asleep. But had she been any better?

"I like to think we would have been alerted before they came upon us," Rowen retorted, unable to hide the emotion the elf had drawn from her. "Once we saw the destruction, we thought little lived within the wood."

The elf's stare intimidated her, made her feel worse than Ren. She stepped back, lifting her chin to stare back. "What do you mean to do then?"

"You will remove yourself from the wood at dawn."

"So you guard a border still."

"I guard what I must," he said and turned away.

...oOo...

Rowen woke with another start, surprised that she had fallen asleep, groaning at the cramps in her legs. She had wedged herself into the crook of a fallen tree, curled over her knees to think out what to do.

When she woke the sky was pink with dawn, streaks of red marring the brightly pastel sky. The elves, five of them, all stood staring at the sky with reservation she could feel as keenly as the terror from Ren last night.

Sweeney settled beside her, crouching in order to whisper softly, out of earshot of the elves. "Something is wrong."

Rowen wiped the grit from her eyes, coarse this morning probably from lack of sleep. She struggled to her feet, watching the elves intently. "They don't like the sky."

Sweeney took her arm, turned away from the elves. "We must get out, Rowen. They have allowed us here, but to stay longer invites disaster. They do not like us here."

She had to agree, she could sense even now their dislike of the men, of her, of their invasion into their wood. "I am sure we won't have much choice but to leave. I don't like their expressions though, this is not good."

The elves had turned, with three of them melting into the trees, gone from sight within steps, while the other two, the leader of the night before and one other remained standing in front of Rowen and her brother.

"What is wrong," Rowen asked, rubbing her arms as a sharp shiver ran down her back.

The leader elf glanced back at the sky with a deep scowl. "There has been blood spilled this night. We must see to it."

She'd heard the old adage, was surprised to hear it voiced by the elf as something real. "That's an old wive's tale," she began, but the stopped at the look he gave her.

"You will remain here," he said, clearly annoyed by his decision.

Rowen looked at Sweeney and then stepped forward. "If there is trouble, we can help."

The look from the two elves suggested otherwise.

"Look, we aren't defenseless," Rowen hissed as the elves turned away. "You have no right to command here..."

She stepped back when the leader turned around, his glare an icy grey sliver of ice. "I am Haldir, March Warden of Lothlórien for more than an age past. You, will, remain, here. Until I return." He stalked past her, sent a glance at Sweeney that had her brother bowing in agreement, and disappeared into the trees much as his previous elves had.

The one remaining elf smiled faintly. "For your safety, we wish you to stay." He touched his brow and then was gone as well.

Sweeney let out a long breath. "Haldir? I thought him long dead."

Rowen pulled her eyes from the wood, straining as yet to see the elf. "Clearly not, if it is true." She turned to look at the men. "What say you? Do we stay?"

Their decision she found later had curious consequences.


	2. Chapter 2

Title: Restoration

Number Author: Fianna

Rating: R

Disclaimer: Tolkien owns the elves of Lothlorien and I write only for the pleasure of their company.

Cast: Haldir, Orophin, Rumil and my own characters

Timeline: Several hundred years after the War of the Ring

Part 2

Rowen found out that following an elf was tricky business, for the simple reason they left no trail. She rose from her crouch, frustrated, staring around her, hands on her hips.

Sweeney, for the fourth time, kept his mouth shut, knowing her too well to say the obvious. She had lost the trail, right from the start.

Ren however, had not learned such wisdom and laughed mockingly. "Reputation notwithstanding, ranger, even you can't follow a trail left by an elf." He nearly giggled, having lost what fear he had of the elves once they had departed.

Rowen ignored him. Dorn stepped closer, gesturing past her toward a narrow creek that offered some ease of travel amid the travesty of downed trees. "Perhaps we use the creek. The elves may be of light feet, but ours are heavy and climbing over these trees will be a pain in the arse."

She had to agree, and nodded. She had no better alternative, and at least they might find themselves out of the wood and on their own before the elves knew they were gone.

The creek led them over hill and vale, all the while surrounded by the remains of a wood once reviled for its beauty. How Rowen wished she could see it as it had been. She sighed, pushing aside a tangled raspberry vine, ducking beneath a small scrubby tree that had taken root at the Mallorn's expense.

A small glade gave them a place to rest. Ren sank down on his back, grumbling. The others sat near by, eyes searching, watching. Rowen paced, driven by the thought of the elves. Where had they gone, and how so quickly? She wanted to press on, but they needed rest as well, for even traveling alongside the stream, the path was hard and perilous.

A snort brought her up a step, surprised by the sound as there had been no animals since they had moved into the wood. A deeper growl made her blood run cold. Sweeney leaped to his feet, drawing two knives. Dorn and Gordie moved back to back, while Ren jumped up, sword in a trembling hand. Rowen moved back towards the men slowly, a step at a time.

The growl repeated and as she reached Sweeney, the creature making the sound rose over a large bole of a Mallorn, claws digging deep into the smooth bark of the tree. A lone wolf was bad enough, but unlikely. Another growl and then another told her they would have their hands full.

The first animal remained on the tree, his growl deep and threatening. The others rose up behind Ren, and the boy whirled, gasping to face them. Rowen drew the blade from her boot, wishing she had more. The wolves looked hungry. It would be a hard fight, even with them outnumbering the animals.

A sharp command made the first wolf turn his head, a faint whine complaining of being distracted.

Rowen held her breath.

The animal bared its teeth at her, lips curling and then it leaped off the tree, yipping as it ran into the brush.

Ren sank to the ground in relief as the other wolves followed.

The elf leaping into the wolf's place was not Haldir, but similar in features, a bow as long as he was tall braced in his hands, arrow nocked and ready. His clothes were of the forest, greys and greens, his hair the same silvery blonde as Haldir's. His face, however, was narrower, chin sharp, eyes a flashing blue.

He sniffed at the sight of Rowen and her men, and then loosened his grip on the bow. He gestured for her to come closer. She glanced at Sweeney but knew she little choice, she would have to trust the elf.

"Thank you," she said once she reached him, bowing slightly.

"You do not belong here," the elf complained, fingers still gripping the arrow in his bow.

"My friends and I are rangers. We are well acquainted with danger. Where is Haldir?"

The elf's brow lifted in surprise. "You have met Haldir?"

Rowen nodded. "He left us in the wood back there. I am concerned, he said there was a battle of some kind not far."

The elf frowned, eyes distant for a moment. "He is well enough. I do not think he knows you follow."

Rowen coughed faintly. "We were simply making our way out of the wood and thought to help if we could."

The elf's gaze shifted between the men and then slid back to her, still oddly distant, until he moved, lifting his bow toward Rowen. "The path is not this way. I think you have other plans."

"We mean you no harm. We protect those weak and unable to help themselves, much as you do."

The elf smiled, an expression that did not reach his eyes. "What makes you think this? There are many who have entered the Golden Wood, never to return."

Rowen slid her dagger into its sheath. "Long ago, perhaps. But you are now few. There is some battle somewhere, for the sky reflected its horror. I follow Haldir, yes, but only to aid if need be. I mean to do nothing else."

The elf considered her for a long moment, still as one of the trees, fingers holding the arrow without thought. His cloak fluttered around his knees and then he shifted, dropping the bow to look at the sky. "What you say is true. There has been blood spilled this night. But not by elves, nor of elves. More than likely one of your own has found his death at the hands of the shadow once again." He sighed faintly. "I am only one and cannot leave my post. Haldir has commanded I send you on."

The elf pointed at the stream. "Continue and you will find a small series of falls. It is there he will find you. But note, ranger, he is not happy that you have disobeyed his command. This wood remains under his control, and here you trespass."

Rowen bowed slightly. "I am honored, elf."

He studied her a moment longer, once again a silent sentinel waiting orders. "Do not stray, mortal, for this wood although Haldir's domain, is no longer held by elven enchantment. Dangers of all kind await those unwary. He will not save you should you ignore this warning." The elf nodded and leaped off the tree and then into the woods to disappear in a flurry of gray cloak.

Sweeney stepped beside her. "A dire warning we should take to heart, I think."

Rowen could only agree.

...oOo...

It took them a better part of the day to find the falls. By then Ren was wet from head to foot, Dorn had twisted an ankle, and she was shivering from the cold of the stream, wet to the waist. They had climbed boulders and waded through hip deep pools, unable to go around due to thickness of the brush. Had Haldir sent them this way on purpose? Had the elves an easier route, or had they too had to face such hazards. By evening, she didn't care, only wanted to stop, start a fire and dry out her boots.

The falls were not so small. Wide, with large flat rocks that split the stream into smaller rivulets, the water was fast and deep. Moss coated the rocks under the water, a hazard for anyone not paying attention, as Dorn had found out. He had slid into a deep pool without any chance to avoid it, unable to climb out on his own. They had dragged the ranger out cursing and dripping, ankle twisted on the rocks hidden deep under the water.

Rowen stood on one of the flat rocks at the height of the first fall - ten feet of rushing white water, its noise a loud chorus after the stillness of the wood. Two more sets of falls fell further down, the second taller than the first, the third narrow and fast, with the water churned into white foam at the base.

There would be little chance of hearing anyone approach, so Rowen chose the safest place, the flat rocks in the center of the falls, to call a halt to their day. If the elves wanted them, they would have to find them.

"Dare we build a fire?" Rowen asked, sitting on the rock to pull off her boots and wring out her socks. Sweeney turned to survey the falls, a frown marring the handsome planes of his face.

"They told us to meet here. I say we make the fire and damn them if they do not come."

"W-what about the wolves?" Ren asked, shivering. "W-won't they return?"

Dorn snorted. "If they do, they do. I'll gather wood. I don't want to stay wet any longer than I must." He leaped the rocks to the bank of the stream and began to pick up small branches.

Gordie nodded in agreement and shook off his cloak to follow Dorn. Sweeney pulled off the pouch at his hip to look inside. " We have little left of our supplies, my flour is wet. We will have to find something to hunt soon."

Rowen frowned. "I dare not kill anything here, Sweeney. We have seen little or nothing of any wildlife beyond the wolves. We'll have to make do."

A shout made them rise quickly, staring off where Gordie and Dorn had gone to pick up wood. Another shout had Rowen leaping the rocks, grunting as her feet slipped on the wet surface, arms flailing as she sailed off the rock and down into a deep pool of rushing water. She gasped as she slammed hard against a submerged boulder, the current dragging her swiftly toward the lip of the falls.

Sweeney yelled, his voice lost in the roar of the water.

Ren held out his sword, but it was too far for her to grasp.

Going over the falls would kill her, she thought, horrified at the lack of control, the force of the water's pull. Another collision with a boulder drew her under the water, hands lifted over her head as if she could pull herself upwards, instead of being dragged further down into the water.

She was losing air, had lost all sense of direction when something caught her wrist, and then she was pulled up and out of the water to land, gasping on the rocks at the edge of the falls. She choked up water, rolling on her side as Haldir knelt beside her.

"I'd forgotten how clumsy mortals can be."

Rowen glared at the elf. "Laugh all you like, it happens."

The elf shook his head. "I do not laugh, ranger. A ride over the edge would have ended your short life. There is much danger here, as I told you."

She found her breath finally, shivering in the chill air. "I can deal with what comes, elf. Thank you for your help. I thought your elf said you would not."

"Should I have simply watched you rush by then?" Haldir inquired, lifting a brow.

"No, I am thankful you were there." She coughed again, and then found his grip on her arm, lifting her to her feet.

"Your brother builds a fire. You will need rest. The water takes a toll, as does the chill." He gripped her elbow, as if concerned she'd slip once again, leading her across the rocks.

Sweeney was waiting for her, with three of the elves, beside a merry fire_. "_Are you all right? Gods blood, Rowen, I thought you lost. I could not reach you quickly enough."

"I am fine," Rowen replied, accepting Sweeney's embrace. His lips pressed over her brow, and she pushed him away. "I'm fine, don't treat me like a child."

He sighed, and then stepped back, drawing her closer to the fire. "Thank the gods for Haldir, for he appeared just as you went in. As soon as I saw he had you, I ran back to build up the fire. Look! We have meat, the men found a rabblit den. The elves have given their approval to cook them."

Rowen sat down, gripping the cloak tightly. "That sounds wonderful." She couldn't look at the elves suddenly, embarrassed by her fall, by Haldir's rescue.

The elves sat with them, mostly silent, sharing the small bounty of food. Sweeney's gaze passed over them intently, while Rowen grew drowsy, fighting to stay awake.

"What did you find?" Sweeney asked Haldir. "The blood in the sky. Whose was it?"

The elves looked at Haldir to answer. He looked up from where he'd been staring at the fire, silver hair cascading over one eye, loosened from the braid that had held it behind his head. "Another orc attack on those unwary enough to travel this close to the mountains. There are still many that linger here."

"Why do you linger? There is nothing left, Haldir. The wood is dead."

The elf frowned, looking at the food in his hands. "Nay, not yet. It is home, no matter the destruction. We were born here, we will die here."

"Guarding what? A bunch of dead trees?"

The elf lifted his gaze, silver eyes dark. "How long we will stay is uncertain. I do not hold those who wish to leave."

"Some stay only for Haldir," another of the elves said. "We would not leave him alone. His duty is ours."

Rowen sat up carefully. She had left herself open to the emotions around her. The elf, however deeply he thought to hide it, could not keep his feelings from her. Anger was there, so stark it had jerked her awake, pain so sharp she caught her breath. "It's a part of you, the wood." she said. "When it was harmed, you were harmed. As guardian, you feel you have failed the forest."

Haldir's gaze settled on Rowen intently. He didn't speak, nor did the other elves, their expressions surprised, staring at Haldir.

"I don't mean to pry." She drew Sweeney's cloak tight around her shoulders again. "I just know things. The forest forgives you. It was not your fault." She curled up on the rock facing the fire and pulled the cloak over her chin, eyes narrowed to slits, watching the elf.

He sat still, frozen in place, the rabbit forgotten as pain flared in his eyes.

Yes, she had been right. Whether he believed her was the question.

...oOo...

Rowen sat up with a gasp. Heart beating triple time, she pressed her fingers against her chest, blinking off the remains of the dream. The men around her slept soundly, relaxed knowing the elves kept watch. They had left them after eating, fading into the surrounding darkness with an ease that chilled Rowen deeply.

Had they been an enemy would they have even known the elves were there? Clearly not, especially after such destruction. She could sense their stubborn desire to make up for what had been lost. But how? How long would they guard a forest that needed them no more?

Or did it?

Rowen rubbed her eyes, head down as she focused on the feelings around her.

The elves were distant, hardly a murmur in her sensory awareness. She knew they were there, not far, on guard, and perhaps that was why she had any sense of them at all. But closer, and more distinctly, she heard the forest, or what had been the forest. The trees, although many of them destroyed, were still there, if only in spirit. They were talking to her. She had only to open her mind and she would understand.

But it was a blur of thought, too much, in a rushed attempt to communicate. Rowen sighed and pushed herself to her feet. She'd sleep no more, no with the forest so loud suddenly. What did it want, how could she understand it?

She could ask Haldir. Would he offer any answers? She didn't have much choice. Concern nagged at her, suddenly filled with a desperation she could not explain.

"Are you unwell?" The elf's voice held a deep resonance, a lyrical quality that a human voice could not match.

Rowen turned around, her vision hampered by darkness, unsure where the elf was. What kind of ranger she must seem to them, stumbling about, falling into the river like some greenhorn just out diapers. She shook her head and stopped, head down to listen for something... anything to help her find the elf.

There! A faint whisper of sound that was not the wind, or water. She turned in that direction only to find the elf nearly upon her. She had only to reach out and touch him.

She did, unable to resist the notion, fingers coming into contact with a firm chest, one that retreated instantly at her touch. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to disturb you." Rowen searched the shadowy face, all glow from him subdued somehow. "I've heard elves kind of glow."

A faint snort made her smile. "It's possible."

"But unwise, perhaps, here," she surmised.

"Indeed," Haldir agreed, moving a step closer. Close enough she could see the gleam in his gaze, hooded and shadowed by his cloak, still there was that faint glimmer there. His fingers brushed her elbow, guiding her away from the sleeping men.

"You have questions." He paused, and drew back his hood. Moonlight reflected off his hair, lit his face so she could see him fully. Rowen nodded, unsure of where to start.

"I don't mean to intrude," she began.

"You have great insight, a trait unusual among mortal men."

Rowen stepped away, pacing. "I can sense things. Like I told you, with the forest."

"It speaks rarely these days."

She glanced at him, briefly. "It speaks to me."

He nodded. "It says you cannot understand."

She blinked, surprised, yet not. "I've tried but it's too much too fast. Like a hundred people yelling at once."

He smiled, faintly, briefly, a curve of one corner of his mouth. Rowen felt drawn to the expression, to the lips once again expressionless. This one held much inside. She felt his distance, yet also his curiosity. "They complain I do not listen," Haldir said.

"I doubt that. Perhaps your guilt overwhelms your hearing."

He did not reply and Rowen wondered if she had stepped too far. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said that."

He shook his head, turning away, shoulders tense. "Perhaps you are right. It has been long since I considered such things."

"Habits die hard," she agreed, staring into the forest to give him a moment. Emotions seemed to flood him, were fought and then suddenly controlled, tightly. She thought he might leave, and whirled to grasp his arm.

He stiffened, the contact unwanted, she could have understood that even without her awareness. But because of it, the wall of his control slammed hard into her, left her dazed for a moment. She blinked, found her hand lifted off his arm, his fingers tight on her wrist.

"You should leave the wood." He dropped her wrist and stepped back.

"Wait," she held up a hand. "I didn't mean to offend. Look, I'm sorry, I keep saying the wrong things. I just wanted to know if there was a way to understand the forest, what it wants. I can't … I don't know what to do."

"There is nothing you can do." Haldir shook his head, as if to clear it, and then sighed – deeply. Around her the few trees standing seemed to sway toward them, as if a wind had come in pushed them forward. Haldir frowned, brows creased in concern. The trees continued to sway, a deep groaning that sent a chill down Rowen's spine.

"I don't think they liked your answer," Rowen whispered.

Frustration radiated from Haldir, anger, and more pain. "There is nothing I can do," he complained and then turned abruptly on his heel, striding across the rocks of the stream.

Rowen watched him stalk away, felt the frustration give rise to more anger and then nothing as he clamped down on whatever he was feeling, leaving her as if he had closed a door. She rubbed her arms, chilled.

He had answers. She knew it, the trees knew it. But how to get him to tell her was going to be tricky.


	3. Chapter 3

Title: Restoration

Number Author: Fianna

Rating: R

Disclaimer: Tolkien owns the elves of Lothlorien and I write only for the pleasure of their company.

Cast: Haldir, Orophin, Rumil and my own characters

Timeline: Several hundred years after the War of the Ring

Part III

Haldir strode into the forest, shoulders tense, chest tight as if band circled his body, squeezing the breath from him so sharply he had to stop, a hand on a nearby tree to allow it to pass. Why had she come, the woman only brought back the pain he had so long buried, reminded him even as he had come to ignore the devastation of his home.

How long had it been?

And why had the Vala allowed it. Was it further punishment? Did the elves betray some confidence, some unwritten rule so terribly that the gods themselves sought to take away that which the elves so loved? The answers were, as always, left unsaid, unknown, thoughts to haunt him day and night.

He fought back the pain, clamped it down in a control so strongly willed he could not breathe still for several moments, until he felt concern shift toward him from a number of wardens nearby. He waved a hand, a signal to comfort them, yet he knew they were not, knew they watched him intently.

He was still their leader, and those that remained looked to him even more, perhaps, than they had in the past, alone and isolated, forgotten in the world that continued without the race of elves.

But they were still there, small groups that had refused the call of the west, hidden within the wilds and woods of Middle Earth, watching and waiting... but for what?

Even he did not know.

"Haldir?"

The questioning, vocal and surprised, brought him up, chin lifted in stubborn refusal to fall sway to his emotions.

"I am fine, Rumil."

The elf stepped out of the shadows with his bow, concern marring the smooth planes of a face as yet un-aged by time. Blue eyes searched his, a frown curved a mouth once used to a smile.

"Perhaps we should make them leave. She has upset you."

Haldir smiled faintly. "They will leave soon enough."

"Why has she come?" Rumil moved closer. "You have not been this intense in a very long while."

"She reminds me only of what is here."

Rumil stopped a step from him, head cocked to one side. "We live in this wood, Haldir. Why would her presence cause you such pain?"

So, it had been that noticeable? Haldir shuddered inwardly. "I cannot explain," he replied stiffly.

Rumil smiled faintly, amusement, once so common in his gaze, brightening his face. "Or unwilling, brother."

"Where is Orophin?" Haldir asked, changing the subject.

Rumil grinned, definitely amused. "Where you put him, on the western border, wondering what is going on here and should he come to aid..."

"I am fine," Haldir growled, heaving an annoyed breath.

Rumil closed his mouth, brows high, but said nothing more.

"I am fine," Haldir insisted. "You will escort them from the wood in the morning."

Rumil touched his brow. "As you command, March Warden."

Haldir nodded, glanced once over his shoulder to where the rangers slept. He would not speak to her again. Could not.

...oOo...

Rowen woke feeling the weight of someone watching her, an instinct honed from years in the wild. She sat up, fingers gripping her dagger only to find one of the elves sitting a few feet from her, legs crossed, cloak tossed back over one shoulder. He looked oddly familiar, his face expressionless, blue eyes keen as the edge of a knife.

He nodded at her. "I am to escort you from the wood."

No beating around the bush, just a firm declaration they would be leaving. Rowen rolled out of her blanket, rising stiffly, noting the sky was barely light. "I suppose I should be thankful I am being escorted."

The elf's lips twitched for a brief moment, amusement there and then gone again. She blinked and tried to gather the sensations inward, but like Haldir, whatever the elf was feeling was suddenly blocked

"Indeed."

"Indeed," Rowen repeated, jerking her cloak from the ground. "So, he refuses to answer my questions and sends us off like truant children."

"What questions did you ask?" the elf inquired, rising as well in a graceful spiral that dropped his cloak from his shoulder and fluttered strands of silver hair. He tilted his head in a way that reminded Rowen of a curious deer, cautious yet intrigued enough not to flee.

Rowen kicked Ren awake, earning a grunt from the young ranger. Sweeney glanced between Rowen and the elf, and then tapped Dorn's shoulder where he sat nearby, watching Rowen as well. The men had drawn near her last night, but had not asked questions.

Dorn sighed and then rose to his feet. "Gordie will be along shortly."

The elf glanced at the men, unconcerned and then returned his gaze to Rowen for his answer.

Would he answer? She doubted it, but thought to ask anyways. "The trees talk to me but I cannot understand them. I asked Haldir how I might learn to do so."

The elf blinked in faint surprise. "The trees speak to you?"

Rowen sniffed, pushing past him. "I did say that. What do they say to you?"

He turned to watch her pack their few belongings. "I do not know, I cannot understand them either. It is rare that they speak at all, rarer still for anyone in this age to know their language."

"But Haldir does."

Rowen glanced over her shoulder when the elf did not answer. He stood still, fingers caressing his mouth, eyes distant. He blinked and then looked at her. "No, I still cannot hear them, for they do not speak to me directly. I hear only the sway of the wind in their branches, the ache in their bones."

She could hear that too. "Why does he not tell me what they say?"

"Perhaps it is not his to say," the elf answered.

"Then why speak to me." She found the elf frustrating as Haldir.

"Perhaps," the elf replied, stepping out of Rowen's irritated path, "they do not say the same thing to each of you."

She glared at the elf, for his answers did not help, nor did they reduce the sensation she had of despair, as if the trees were as dejected as she was.

He waved her forward, once more distant, as Gordie returned with Sweeney and Dorn. Ren followed at the rear, for once silent and uncomplaining.

...oOo...

The elf moved forward once past the river, leading them on a narrow path that took them to the edge of a great meadow. Strands of golden grass shivered in the wind, behind them, just visible, another shallow rocky stream bed. Snow-capped mountains shadowed the river, undulating upward from the river in rolling granite strewn hills.

"The stream will take you to safer paths than the mountains," the elf suggested. "Orcs still roam the deeper passes. Giants range in the hills."

Rowen nodded, bowing slightly. "I am honored to know the elves still remain."

The elf touched his brow and then retreated into the sparse trees they had just left.

Sweeney watched him disappear into the trees with a frown. "So what is your plan, Rowen? I've seen that look too many times not to know you've got some crazy idea in your head."

Rowen looked at her companions, studying each one for a long moment. "You must think I've lost my mind."

Sweeney grinned. Dorn and Gordie shrugged when she looked at them.

Ren shook his head. "Even I can tell something serious is up. I might not hear what you hear, Rowen, but I feel it." He shivered, rubbing his arms.

Sweeney dropped a hand on her shoulder. "We're with you, whatever you intend. I know my sister. So what is it?"

She heaved a sigh and shoved a hand through her hair, pushing it off her face. "The trees speak, but I can't understand them." She waved at the distant sunlit trees, far smaller than what should have been there. "But I did get one thing, one word I recognized."

Sweeney glanced at the wood. "And..."

"Thranduil."

Her brother blinked. "The elf king?"

Rowen nodded. "I think I need to find him."

Ren scratched his head. "And how are we to find him. I thought the elves crossed the sea to wherever they go."

"Most of them did," Gordie agreed. "But some, like these Lorien elves, stayed. I expect a number of them have passed on, but who knows. He might still be here. But I do know his caves in Mirkwood have been abandoned for some time."

Sweeney nodded agreement. "If he's not there, how do you expect to find him, if he's still in Arda at all?"

Rowen pointed at the trees. "They'll show me, or they'll pass word to his people we look for him. I get that somehow, don't ask me how." She looked at Sweeney. "You don't have to go."

He snorted and turned to his companions. Each of the men smiled, arms folded over a chest.

Rowen smiled. "All right then. This is what I think. Thranduil's lands were in the Greenwood, slowly pushed smaller and smaller by the evils of Sauron. After the war so long ago, he left his caves, due to the influx of men looking for land. The elves are reclusive, and prefer, just as they do here, not to intermingle with men. Why he stayed I don't know."

She paced in front of the men, thinking. "But the wood remains still murky and dark, uncomfortable to pass through. Few of the spiders remain, but yet the wood is not a friendly place."

Sweeney understood. "Elves do have some magic as yet."

"True," Rowen agreed. "Not near the power they had before, but enough yet, perhaps to provide a feeling of trespass, of danger?" She smiled. "The worse it gets, the closer we are, I guarantee it."

Gordie chuckled, hands tucked on his belt. "I'd wager that," he said, jingling the pouch on his belt. "A few coins that Rowen is getting just a bit cocky in her thoughts."

Ren grinned and flipped a coin in the air. "I'm in, but I'm on Rowen's side. I think we'll find him."

Sweeney caught the coin, holding it in his fingers. "This is no lark, no party. The elves of Mirkwood have been and still are a dangerous adversary. If they mean not to be found they will not be found. If we trespass, much as we did here, we may find an arrow in our chest our only welcome to be had."

Rowen took the coin. "I'll take that chance. The trees insist upon it."

Dorn removed it gently from her clenched fingers and tucked it into his belt. "I'm thinking the journey needs to get started. The farther we are from this wood, the better I'll feel. I don't know about you, but those elves make me nervous. I ain't been nervous around anybody, and I don't like it." He shoved his pack onto his shoulder. "If we mean to find this elf king, Rowen, then lead the way. I'm with you whatever comes."

Rowen sighed and gripped Dorn's arm. "Thanks, to all of you."

Sweeney shoved her forward. "Well get on then, Rowen. Time's a wastin'. We've got an elf to find. Maybe this one will be better than the last. I'm with Dorn."

...oOo...

Rumil shifted slightly, hidden behind the narrow bole of a tree, his cloak's colors changing imperceptibly to match the texture of the wood behind him. He touched the edge of his hood, drawn low to mask the sheen of his hair, gaze fixed on the group just leaving the grassy meadow.

He needed to find Haldir. Listening to the woman had made him uneasy, his first instinct to protect one of his own, to shield the elven king. But another thought had taken hold, another idea that perhaps this woman could do something more, something that went beyond his wildest hope.

Perhaps she had been sent. Perhaps, he mused absently as he watched them cross the rocky stream, leaping rock to rock, she could find a way to bring Haldir back.

The trees seemed to hold their breath, leaves shivering faintly, creaking with a sense of impatience.

He glanced upwards, squinting at the bright sunlight streaming down. He needed to speak to Haldir. To tell him of the woman's plans. To see what his brother would do.

There were few elves left. Thranduil, for all his glory, had little more than a handful at his side. Stubborn elf, much as Haldir, he refused to leave for the west. Perhaps because of his son, who continued to wander the wilds as well.

At any rate, he needed to find Haldir.

...oOo..

It didn't take Rumil long to find his brother. The elven wardens had taken refuge on the ground in small simple dwellings. Haldir was in the training arena, or what might have called a village green, a central area within the houses of the wardens.

He stood only in leggings and undertunic, hair unbound and feet bare. Rumil stopped to study him, noting things even some of Haldir's longest standing wardens might not have seen. Haldir held his bow, the red wood of the slim weapon dark against the pale skin of his hand, fingers drawn to his cheek with the bow string gripped securely between them. Even undressed and without armor, Haldir still was an intimidating sight, even for Rumil.

But, after first glance, things were not so perfect.

Haldir's fingers shook faintly as he stared down the length of the arrow longer than his arm.

Hair usually pulled back covered one cheek, tangled partly in the quiver on his back, hanging over his shoulder and chest.

He did not release, but stood stiff and unbending, deep in thought.

It was, as Haldir often did, a way for him to focus his mind. Rumil waited patiently.

The arrow finally flew, released with a sharp whip of the bowstring to thump soundly into the straw target fifty paces from where Haldir stood.

Rumil lifted one brow. "You missed."

Haldir didn't look at him, but stared instead at his arrow, perhaps commanding it to move into the place it should have been, a hair to the left within the circle marking the center of the target.

Rumil folded his arms over his chest and leaned against a fence post.

Haldir drew back again, arm muscles tight against his sleeves, fingers long and elegant as he pulled them close to his cheek. He blinked once and then again, and let go, releasing the arrow to fly faster than even an elven gaze could follow, into the target.

Rumil covered a choked cough with his hand.

Haldir stared at the target, mouth open for a moment, before stalking toward it in a fury. He reached the target and with a oath Rumil hadn't heard his brother speak in very long while, pulled the arrow free.

He was looking down the shaft when Orophin rushed into the clearing, breathing hard, stopping abruptly to bend over his knees.

Rumil looked at his middle brother curiously.

"I came as fast as I could. I felt something wrong... I..." Orophin looked up, frowned and then straightened to stare at Rumil, questions in his qaze.

Rumil held out a hand, and turned toward Haldir.

"Is she gone?" Haldir gripped the arrow in both hands, looking up at Rumil from beneath a few strands of silver hair.

"Aye."

Haldir grunted and closed his eyes.

Orophin took a step forward, but Rumil waved at him again and he stopped.

"You should know where she plans to go," Rumil said.

"I have no care to where she goes," Haldir declared. He ran a hand down the arrow and shook his head.

"But you should," Rumil argued. He pushed off the fence and walked toward Haldir. "Especially since she plans on seeking Thranduil."

The arrow snapped in two as Haldir jerked his head up to stare at Rumil. "How would you know this?"

Rumil shrugged. "I was eavesdropping."

"How would she know Thranduil is still within Arda," Orophin asked. He looked at both Haldir and Rumil. "Who is "she"?"

Rumil ignored his brother's question. "The trees speak to her. She senses many things."

Haldir threw aside the arrow, pacing a few steps. "She is a fool. She will never find him."

"Perhaps," Rumil agreed. "But I think she has some idea of where to go, she is very astute, Haldir."

"She is empathic," Haldir corrected. "She can feel more than speak to the trees."

"Why would she seek out Thranduil?" Orophin asked again. He had moved closer. "I would know what is happening. I have felt far too much and do not like it."

He was ignored again, as Haldir and Rumil stared at each other.

"She will find him and then what, Haldir?" Rumil waved a hand expressively. "My instinct says we must follow her, to protect Thranduil."

"Can she harm the elven king?" Orophin gasped, and then scowling, stepped in between Haldir and Rumil. "Who is this woman you speak of? Why does she seek Thranduil? How can she speak with the trees, even I cannot."

Haldir sighed. "Orophin, gather your wardens. We must journey to Mirkwood."

Rumil nodded. "So we go to aid Thranduil?"

Haldir turned away, and then stopped. "Nay Rumil, we protect Rowen from Thranduil. He will not be so gracious as to allow her near without harm." He looked at Orophin. "Rumil will explain later. We leave by nightfall."

Rumil watched Haldir stride away, bow gripped tightly in his hand, thoughts already on what he must do.

Orophin blew out a deep breath. "You will explain everything." He glanced at the target and then back at Rumil. "Did I see what I thought I saw?"

Rumil bent to pick up the two pieces of arrow that Haldir had snapped in his fury. He studied them, eyeing their length for any defect. The arrow, even broken, remained true and straight. He shook his head. "A testament to Haldir's inner conflict if he misses the center, or even the next course. But to nearly shoot off the target? He frowned at Orophin. "There is much to tell."

...oOo...


	4. Chapter 4

Title: Restoration

Number Author: Fianna

Rating: R

Disclaimer: Tolkien owns the elves of Lothlorien and I write only for the pleasure of their company.

Cast: Haldir, Orophin, Rumil, Legolas, Thranduil, plus many more

Timeline: Several hundred years after the War of the Ring

Note: I am using bits and pieces of both book, movie and my imagination to craft this story. It does not follow all of Tolkien's writings. He did not write much of what happened to the elven cities after the ring is destroyed, but inspired by movie and my thoughts, I could only imagine such power of the rings must have had some impact somehow. And if such cities were left intact and abandoned, would not have men found them and moved in, gaining note in the annals written afterward? At any rate, I take much license in writing this, and hope you can see things as I do. Thank you very much for reading.

RESTORATION

Part IV

Haldir stood on the bank of the river, cloak folded over his shoulders, quiver and bow strapped to his back as he had so many times in his life; poised to begin a journey once more from the woods of Lorien. He inhaled quietly, his chest tight, and then looked behind him.

The sight that met his eyes was not the one he had long grown to love, but of a more recent travesty that he still could not erase from his mind.

How long had it been? Not long enough since the wood was torn apart. He sighed, remembering that day, replaying the memories even as they reminded him of his despair. The war had been raging for months. Galadriel had sent the Ring-bearer and his companions onward. Haldir had watched them leave, his heart troubled. Such a small group had not seemed enough to conquer such a foe as Sauron. Yet they had, in months and days beyond, through trials and tribulations he would wish on no one. And in the end, with Aragorn and more, they had fought in Mordor, until at last, Sauron had been defeated.

The unsuspecting elves were not prepared, however, for his demise, or for the resulting blast that would nearly be their undoing. The power of the ring was not just in that small token Frodo had carried, but held as well in the rings given to the elven lords, and the dwarves, and men, both the latter lost to time and memory. But the elves remained, as did the rings given them, and with that sudden shattering death that had thrown warriors from their feet in Mordor, so too had it echoed within the forest of Lorien. Combined with the magic the elves themselves held, of Galadriel's mirror and more, the resulting burst of uncontrolled power had wrought terrible devastation. Trees had fallen. Flets and bridges, walkways and stairs had twisted and snapped. Galadriel's mirror cracked in a loud explosion of sound that send the Lady of Light to the ground, with Celeborn covering her with his body until the rain of branches stopped.

Haldir shuddered. He had seen it all, stood at the edge of the once grand city in horror. He had not been there, but on the borders as a warden should, guarding his home, his people from a danger he could not have known would come from the most inner reaches of Caras Galadhon.

Galadriel had said as much, but her counsel had not eased the pain in his heart.

Days followed of great storms. Trees once protected by the sheer number of surrounding trees, were now left open and vulnerable. Wind toppled many that still remained, while lightening and rain took down more. Once a haven, the forest had now become more dangerous than the caves of Moria.

And so, his people had left, not long after Galadriel had departed with Elrond and Celeborn.

But he had remained, with a select few too stubborn to leave, his despair forced aside by a loyalty to a forest no more.

Haldir closed his eyes, shutting out the sunlit glade of broken trees. He would return. His journey would take him from the wood, but he would return, as he always did. Grimly he turned to face the river again, brushing aside a strand of hair caught by the wind. Rumil and Orophin waited with a boat, while the other wardens still remaining surged ahead, a select few he could rely on without conscious thought.

They knew the paths to take, but they too, much as he had, looked back, faces expressionless.

What lay ahead was unknown.

They looked to him for answers, for guidance, for strength. Some days he felt he had little to give. His brothers waited patiently, concern unspoken, gazes downcast so he would not see their worry. A faint breeze stirred his cloak, ruffling the edges near his knees, and with it, brought a whisper of sound.

He cocked his head slightly, straining to hear, fingers tight on the belt at his waist.

"_Hurry," _the voices insisted. _"We are with you."_

Haldir blinked. The wind died away, leaving him surrounded with stillness. Then sound intruded, the river gurgling nearby, the water flowing through a group of rocks. A hawk called in the distance, crickets chirped, a frog voiced a love song to another. The world went on. He must go on.

He checked his pack, shifting into movement so suddenly it drew his brother's attention. Knives, sword, bow – weapons were in order. Supplies were packed, they had left nothing behind. He glanced over his shoulder once more and then nodded. He would be back.

The trees sighed their goodbyes and their expectation of his return.

Haldir leaped down the riverbank to join his brothers.

...oOo...

Rowen scratched the itch at her neck, hot and irritated, feet sore from several days of walking. She had been relentless, pushing the men, feeling an unnerving sensation that they were being followed. How many times had she looked back, slowed her pace hoping to see some trace of their followers. To think the elves of Lorien might be there, just beyond her sight was ridiculous. She was being too sensitive, her nerves on edge after meeting Haldir and his wardens. They had continued, crossing the great river into the darkness that was once the Greenwood, now called Mirkwood still, after the terrors that had haunted it in the years before the war. They had been lucky, unmolested by the creatures that still lingered within the wood, shadowed only by the unknown presence behind them.

She had not wanted to speak of it, felt it was only her sensitivity, until Gordie had walked beside her to complain of it. Ren had agreed, and so, she knew it was not just her nerves but the others as well that felt watched. The knowledge gave her little peace, however.

Rowen glanced over her shoulder, unable to stop herself and sighed. The forest was as it ever was, shadowed and green, dark with unnamed mysteries. But certainly no elves. They would have no reason to follow her, even if they had known her intentions.

She hurried to catch up with Sweeney, striding alongside without speaking for several moments.

"You feel it too?" Sweeney glanced at her, his grey eyes narrowed. "It's stronger today, like they are just behind the last tree, watching."

"I thought I was being silly."

"You, sister mine, are never silly when it comes to feelings." He shifted his bow from shoulder to hand. "What do you think it is?"

"I don't know," Rowen answered. "Maybe just nerves. Animals? Elves? Or maybe it's all part of Thranduil's defense system."

Sweeney nodded and pulled an arrow from the quiver attached to his hip. "Whatever it is, I don't like it. Even Ren is acting uneasy."

"He's got a lot to learn," Rowen noted, studying the young ranger. "I wonder if we should have left him in the city?"

"He's got to learn if he wants to be a ranger. Experience, even if he has to step into the fire before he's ready is invaluable. If he survives, he'll be stronger for it."

"Still, I feel responsible for him," Rowen complained.

"Don't, he wanted to come, and in doing so, knew the dangers. Just as we did," Sweeney reminded her. He pointed the arrow in his hand at Dorn, and Gordie, leading the group down the narrow path. "Those two are grizzled and hard. They'll be fine whatever comes."

Rowen sighed. "I'll quit worrying."

Sweeney grunted, nocking his arrow between his fingers. "Don't do that,or we'll be in trouble." He slowed his pace, and then turned abruptly, arrow pulled to his cheek, to face the woods behind them. "We may already be in trouble, Rowen."

Rowen turned around slowly, calling the men ahead to a halt in a low voice. She stiffened, fingers gripping her dagger, to stare at the shadows ahead of them.

She couldn't see anything for a long moment as the sunlight sifted through the leaves. Green and grey fluctuated with darker shadows. She lifted a hand to hold Ren from moving forward. Sweeney drew in a deep breath. Gordie stepped to her side, his bow nocked as well.

In front of them stood four elves. Like the wardens of Lorien, they dressed in colors of the forest, cloaked and armed, faces grim and unfriendly. One of the leaders moved forward and Rowen was surprised to note she was female.

"You trespass where you are not wanted, Ranger."

It all sounded so familiar Rowen nearly rolled her eyes. But the elves were too still, poised like cats, able to strike with a speed she knew her men could not match. "I mean no harm to you or yours."

"It matters not, you must retreat and leave now or face the consequences."

"I seek Thranduil."

"He seeks no men, or women," the elf replied, stiffly. "We need no contact with the race of men."

"I realize you wish none, but I have to see him. It is dire that I do. I cannot, nor will not explain to you."

The elf snorted, taking a step closer. "Do you think this speech will gain you this? Foolish ranger, you are lucky to be alive. Take that mercy and be gone."

"I come from Haldir." Rowen dropped her dagger to the ground, pushed Sweeney's arrow from his cheek, to lower it as well.

The elf moved another step closer. "Prove this? Is he in trouble?"

Rowen folded her arms over her chest. "Do you care?"

The elf crossed the distance between them. She was beautiful, with long auburn hair, eyes sharp and annoyed. "I care for any elf in this land still alive. What do you want?"

The elf radiated impatience, annoyance and disdain in a wave unchecked and uncontrolled. It was a stark difference to the Lorien elves. Rowen wondered if it was due to her gender, or a simple choice of will. Perhaps these elves felt no need to hide what they felt. Rowen touched her brow. "I will explain only to Thranduil."

"Then you will explain to none," the elf declared, whirling to draw her sword. Her blade met Sweeney's, drawn to block the blow from hitting Rowen while she backed up, grabbing her dagger from the dirt.

She dove to the ground as an arrow shot over her head. Gordie ducked behind a tree, Dorn fell down with an arrow to his shoulder. He crawled behind a boulder while Sweeney and the elf continued to fight. Ren remained frozen in place, his sword in hand.

"Get down, fool," Rowen shouted, horrified the boy would find an arrow to his chest.

Ren blinked and then suddenly moved, whirling to avoid the arrow sent his way, arching backwards to land on his back on the ground.

They were clearly outnumbered. More than likely dead in the next few moments.

Rowen leaped to her feet, her thought to aid Sweeney when another blade intercepted the elf's and Sweeney's, coming between them with a sharp hiss of steel, held with a strength that drew even the elf to a pause.

"Hold, Tauriel, Ranger."

The elf gasped, her eyes grown large, stepping back with a quick bow of her head. "Legolas!"

The newcomer smiled faintly and then looked at Rowen as Sweeney moved beside her, sword still in hand, ready as yet to do battle. "I am Legolas. Come to see my father, and finding strangers in his wood. Forgive Tauriel, she is ever ready to guard the King of Mirkwood from any and all."

Rowen knew of this elf, studied the stark differences that set him apart from the warrior elf Tauriel, from Haldir even. He was slim, dressed simply in leggings and tunic, twin blades strapped to his shoulders and a sleek bow she knew was Lorien made tied neatly over the top of his quiver. Blond hair gleamed in the sunlight, blue eyes studied her just as intently, but without the reservations held by the other elves.

This one traveled within the realms of men, a close friend once of Aragorn, of the dwarves, one who had also resisted the call to the West.

She touched her forehead in a gesture of respect, bowing her head. "I am honored."

"You spoke of Haldir? He still resides in Arda?" Legolas waved Tauriel back a step, moving between them. The movement might have been thoughtless, but Rowen believed it more instinct, to separate adversaries, to prove both his superior rank and soothe Sweeney's clear reservations.

Rowen pressed a hand to Sweeney's arm. "Aye, he and a few of his wardens remain as yet in Lorien. But it is a sad place now."

Legolas frowned, his blue eyes narrowed. "I have heard rumors that Lorien has fallen, but believed them not. Such a place could not be destroyed, not by any hand of Men or Orc."

"Not by those, surely," she agreed. "Travesty brought it is said, by the ring itself, and those attached to it, power given by the hand of evil. What it wrought, it took back with terrible result."

"I am saddened deeply by this, for of any race of elves, the Galadhrim loved their home more than most." Legolas sighed and drew Rowen aside, with a glance that held Sweeney in place and a gesture that had Tauriel frowning.

"I have traveled far in this world," Legolas admitted. "But have not returned to the Golden Wood, both because of time and because of distance. They were not the only to feel the demise of such power, for even Imladris shook with it, cliffs broke free, rivers changed course. But the stone of Rivendell held well even so, the caves of my father sheltered my people from much of the damage. I had not thought of the vulnerability of a forest of trees, and for that I am truly sorry not to have gone there."

"I do not know how many were lost but the glades hold much despair, but more as well. The trees speak, but of what I cannot say for their words are not those I understand."

Legolas lifted a brow. "And you come to Thranduil to understand?"

"I come to him because of the trees, for it was the one word I did know."

"And Haldir?"

Rowen rubbed her arms, suddenly chilled. "He is still there, guarding his memories." She looked away, unsettled by the sudden sense of despair, the pain she had felt from him. "He is not what he was, Legolas. I knew him not, but I sense..." she touched her brow, the memory so strong it took her words, unable to voice the elf's deep despair.

Legolas gripped her shoulder. "And why come to my father?"

"I don't know. I thought I could help in some way, I wish I could." She met Legolas's gaze. "He troubled me deeply. I could not bear to see his pain."

"Or feel it," Legolas agreed quietly, his gaze searching. "He touches many, but few would ever sense his thoughts or feelings. He would not like that." Legolas smiled briefly. "I will take you to my father, even with Tauriel's reservations."

Tauriel sniffed. "I do as I must, as you once insisted, that of guarding my King. How can you believe what she says is true. There is no proof of her claim."

Legolas smiled at Rowen and then turned his head to gaze at Tauriel. "And once you showed me how narrow my view of the world was, Tauriel. She speaks of Haldir as if she knows him, and few can say they know the March Warden well enough to gage his feelings. For that I trust in what she says, and asks. The trees, do you not hear their sighs of impatience? I have felt a disturbance in the wood for several days, a sort of wave that has passed over me, as if the trees speak, but I cannot hear what they say."

Rowen sighed in relief. "I thought they would help. They speak to me, Legolas, although I too cannot understand exactly what they say." She held out a hand. "I am Rowen, my brother Sweeney, my men Dorn, Ren and Gordie. We mean no harm, seek only answers."

Legolas nodded. "I do not know if we can provide them, or even if my father will see you. But if I can help I will do so. Haldir touched me as well, my respect for him deeply held. I would not see him in such pain, for even though you did not speak of it, I can see it in your eyes." He touched Rowen's chin gently. "There has been far too much pain in the years past. My heart yearns for things I cannot name, nor wish to as yet. That he can resist a call so marks his loyalties as yet."

She could only agree. Haldir would not leave his forest for it was still hurting. They would have to heal its pain somehow before he could return to the West and his people. She called to her companions, smiled at a reserved warrior elf that looked at Legolas with both respect and irritation. He had pulled rank and she had not liked it.

Rowen nearly laughed. Elves were not so different from men in many ways.

… oOo ...


	5. Chapter 5

Title: Restoration

Number Author: Fianna

Rating: R

Disclaimer: Tolkien owns the elves of Lothlorien and I write only for the pleasure of their company.

Cast: Haldir, Orophin, Rumil, Legolas, Thranduil, plus many more

Timeline: Several hundred years after the War of the Ring

RESTORATION

Part V

Haldir held Rumil's arm, holding the warden from moving forward, hidden within the shadows of a great oak. Rowen's group stood a short distance away, surrounded by the elves of Mirkwood, speaking to Thranduil's son, Legolas.

Haldir smiled faintly, his memory of the younger elf a pleasant one. Legolas had been enthralled by stories of Lothlorien and intimidated by rumors of their ferocity. It had not taken long, however, for him to see past the wariness of his kin, to find the grand city of Caras Galadhon the treasure it was. Galadriel had gifted the Prince with a bow of Lorien make, and Haldir was pleased to see it still strapped to the young elf's back.

But he was not ready to reveal himself, not to Rowen, nor even to the elves of Mirkwood.

Orophin dropped down out of the tree above him when the group moved away, landing silently. He watched them disappear into the gloom of the forest and then turned to look at Haldir intently.

"I have followed without question since we left the Golden Wood, Haldir. I would like answers now. What is this woman to you?"

Haldir stared at the forest, at the path the others had taken. He knew he could find Thranduil, no matter his whereabouts and was not concerned to allow Rowen to gain some distance. They had followed the rangers easily, keeping just out of their sight, sometimes moving so close they could have touched them in passing.

Yet he had cautioned his wardens to remain hidden, to follow only and not interfere.

They had followed orders without complaint until the elven guard had drawn her sword. Rumil had then stepped forward, but Haldir had held him back with an arm, forcing his brother to watch and not step in between. Legolas's arrival had not surprised him, either, for the trees had spoken his name.

"Haldir?" The word held so many questions, some Haldir could not as yet answer. He turned to face Orophin, shifting Rumil a step. Both elves folded their arms over their chests, like minded as always.

"I cannot explain all, Orophin. Only that I must follow. I fear what Thranduil may do, for he is ever an elf with a distaste for any rival race. Legolas may ease her way into his counsel, and so I will allow him to lead her there and keep my distance as yet."

"Why follow at all? What does she mean to you?"

Haldir sighed. "That is what I cannot explain, only that she has sensed much of my inner turmoil, things that I have not spoken of to even you." He shook his head, unsettled still by her intuition.

"So she is empathic, as Rumil has explained. You would leave the wood unguarded for her?"

Haldir tightened his grip on the bow in his hand. "You did not have to follow, Orophin."

His brother snorted softly. "I am a warden, brother first, perhaps, but a warden. Where you go, I go. But I would like to understand."

"The wood shall survive our absence, for it will not be that long, Orophin."

"Still, I feel concern, Haldir." Orophin moved to stand in front of Haldir, blocking his view of Rowen's path. "Are you all right?"

Haldir met his brother's gaze, grey eyes to blue. "I am fine. Perhaps I think clearly for once, sent on a mission for the good of our home once again."

Orophin lifted a brow and then he nodded, laying a hand on Haldir's shoulder, fingers gripping him tightly. "All right then, I ask no more questions. I just worry, brother. Your pain is our pain, you know this."

Haldir grasped Orophin's shoulder in return. "I know. Trust that what we do is for good reason."

The warden smiled and then glanced over his shoulder. "They travel quickly now, with Legolas leading them. This other warden, she is good."

"She is not all she seems," Haldir noted. "She keeps a distance yet I sense her curiosity as well."

Rumil threw his arms over both Haldir and Orophin's shoulders. "I find her intriguing. However, the longer we stand here, the farther they get ahead. Shall we continue to shadow them? And for how long can we evade the elves of Mirkwood?"

Haldir moved away from Rumil to shoulder his bow. "We will know when to show ourselves."

...oOo...

Rowen followed behind Legolas, her thoughts distracted. The trees seemed to hum as they passed, a chorus that urged her onward, yet left her feeling slightly confused as to what they wanted or expected from her. She was not a fool to believe she was safe even in the hands of the son of Thranduil, even if the trees seemed content to let them continue without complaint. The woodland elves were guardians here as the Sylvan elves of Lorien were of the Golden Wood. But this forest had lost much of its glamour and luster, torn by evil until nearly destroyed. The elves had retreated from their lands held for ages past, living a wandering kind of life, but for how long? When would Thranduil heed the call for the West, if ever?

Questions Rowen could not answer, some she cared not to know. Her concern was more for Haldir, wondering if he thought of her, and what, if anything she could do to help him.

The elf leading them called Tauriel did not speak to anyone. She kept their pace quick, yet seemed aware of anything that slowed them, looking back over her shoulder from time to time. Would they lead them to Thranduil, or was this simply a ploy to take them somewhere else?

The thought worried her.

Just how many of the Mirkwood elves remained? She shook her head and focused her thoughts as Tauriel slowed, leaping a downed tree and then stopping to turn around to face Legolas.

"I go no further without approval from Thranduil."

Legolas smiled, nodding faintly. He glanced at Rowen. "I will continue and come back for you. It will not take long. Tauriel will remain here."

The elf opened her mouth as if to argue and then shut it tightly, fingers gripping her bow. "As you wish, Legolas."

Rowen lifted a brow, watching as the elf disappeared into the darker shadows of the forest. She turned to study Tauriel, reaching out to grip the elven captain's arm. "He means no disrespect to you."

Tauriel stepped back out of Rowen's reach. "It is no matter to you."

Rowen smiled faintly, amused by the elf's distance. "I know you dislike us..."

Tauriel sighed and waved a hand, turning away. "I do not care one way or the other. I care only for my king, and protect him as I must as his captain. Legolas overlooks this."

"No, he does not. But he forgets what it is like to be of lower rank."

The elf shifted so she could look at Rowen. "How would you know this, any of this? Are you empathic?"

Rowen nodded. "I mean you no harm. I wish only to help someone and the trees tell me I must go to Thranduil."

Tauriel's brows rose once again. "You can hear the trees?"

It was Rowen's turn to sigh. Was this so unusual? "Aye, sort of. I sense what they want more than hearing words."

"The trees sent you here." The words slipped from the elf's lips even as she looked up at the canopy above them. "Their trust I measure greatly. I will see you to Thranduil, and this friend, the one you wish to help? Who is he?"

Rowen felt the heat rise to her cheeks, coughed to cover her emotional response. "I cannot say as yet. No offense to you."

The elf looked around her, a sudden frown marring her brow. "None taken, Ranger. We are not alone."

Rowen turned to look at the forest, realizing the trees were suddenly silent. "What is it?"

Tauriel drew her bow, knocking an arrow between her fingers. "I do not know, nor do I like it."

...oOo...

Haldir shifted behind a tree, clasping his cloak at the neck, head tilted to listen. The trees, a constant murmur in his head, were now suddenly silent, a warning in itself, much to his dismay.

Orophin signaled from a tree nearby his concern, a sound repeated several more times by the other elves. He glanced back to where Rowen and the Mirkwood elves stood, a distance of a hundred paces, yet he noted the leading elf flinched at the sounds of his elves, knowing they were not of her wood.

He smiled in amusement.

They would not be happy to note the elves of Lorien had shadowed them for days. But this was not important, for something had quieted the trees, something shadowed him in a way that made his nerves clamor of danger, triggering the deep calm he always felt in battle.

He signaled to Orophin with a faint wave of his fingers, sending the elves in the trees further outwards from his position. He drew his bow from his shoulder, pulling an arrow silently from the quiver behind his back. Knocking it took no notice, a motion he had perfected, and simply did not think about. Instead, he studied the shadows around him for the danger he knew would soon approach.

There were still evils in this world, orcs, the spiders that had nearly taken Mirkwood, but this was not of that ilk. This was something different.

It came in the form of a group of men, ragged and dirty, forging their way through the wood without regard to the leaf or fauna, trampling delicate flowers in their path, their voices echoing harshly in the wilderness. Men searching for easy prey, outlaws the rangers hunted with considerable distaste.

Haldir knew of these kind of men, although few attempted the woods of Lorien, even decimated as she was now. Mirkwood, however, was fair game for rumors that both the spiders and elves were gone left it open to invasion and theft.

Haldir drew the arrow to his cheek, debating his course of action. If he let go his arrow, a man would die. The Mirkwood elves would know of his presence, and be both annoyed and angry not to confront their dangers as they should.

If he did not, and let them pass unharmed, he would have to trust that Rowen and the few Mirkwood elves would defend themselves.

Or possibly, allow these men to pass them as well, hiding within the trees.

A choice he would not make, yet this was not his wood to defend.

The Mirkwood captain seemed of like mind, for she waved the others away, disappearing into the shadows.

The men passed by without realizing how closely they came to death, a hands width from elves of the woodland realm.


End file.
